Greetings and salutations fellow fanfiction patrons! How are we all this fine day? I apologize for the long wait, but I'm happy to present to you all chapter 2 of the Devil's Shadow! YAY! Before we dive right in, I'd like to take some time thank the following people for reviewing chapter 1!
a.t: I'm glad you liked it so far!
TristeAlma: I'm glad you enjoy the first chapter! I really like the concept with Storm's powers being fueled by her emotional state, and thought I'd try take a stab at it. Hopefully I will try to live up to your expectations!
Tmntfreak1996: Thank you so much, I'm so glad you're enjoy this so far!
Thank you all so much for your feedback, and I promise to try to keep all the hard work for future chapters! Now, enough with my jibber jabber, lets get this party started!
The blonde slowly turned his body to face the door, all the while continuing to play the soft melody. His icy blue eyes were closed tightly. The small group slowly trudged their way inside. The maid silently made her exit and closed the door softly behind her. The haunting sound of the violin came to an abrupt end. Michael opened his eyes, lifting the slender bow off the strings.
Michael's peaceful face contorted into one of annoyance as he glared at the group standing in front of him. "Koko de nani o shite iru nodesu ka?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop significantly to match the pale teen's cold stare. Scott felt himself shift uncomfortably under the other teen's gaze. Despite not knowing or even understanding what the blonde had just said, he had an odd feeling that the blonde's words weren't meant to be in a nice way. Taking into account the way the teen's eyes bore into them, it felt like Michael was staring directly into their very souls.
I can't explain this feeling, but he makes me feel... uneasy. Scott thought warily as he continued to stare down the other teen.
"Michael." Rosella said in a warning tone.
The blonde's glare softened slightly, adjusting his gaze to look at the nearest corner in the room. He fidgeted nervously, his pale cheeks dusted by a pink flush. He lowered his violin so the string instrument could rest against the side of his right hip. Michael turned his gaze back to look at his mother and their guests.
"Mamma?" The blonde spoke softly. "Potrei parlare con te, da solo?"
The frown on the blonde woman's face melted into a look of concern. It wasn't very often that her son talked to her in such a soft voice. She briefly glanced over her shoulder at their guests, then back to him.
"Of course, I'll just be outside if you need me dear."
Nodding to her guests, Rosella walked passed them and towards the door to make her exit. As the door closed behind her with a soft click, the cold glare returned almost instantly on the pale teen's face. The blonde moved to put his violin down on the white piano behind before turning on his heel to face them.
"What are you doing here!?" Michael whisper yelled raking a hand roughly through his already tousled hair. "What part of 'no', did you not hear me say the first time?"
"Yes I do remember what you said earlier, Mr. Soletta." Charles replied calmly. "But I'm not sure that you fully understand the reason why I wish to invite you to my school."
"Yeah, it's probably cause I'm freak." The blonde snapped.
The telepath frowned at his choice of words. "Mr. Soletta, you are not a 'freak' by any means."
"Forgive me, is mutant the politically correct term for what we are?" The blonde rolled his eyes.
"Mr. Soletta, there is no need for hostility." The professor stared at him with a neutral face.
Michael glared at the telepath with narrowed eyes. "Who's being hostile? I'm just being perfectly honest about how I feel here."
Michael leaned against the side of the piano, crossing his arms in a huff. Pushing himself off the piano, he reached to grab his blazer but stopped short. He felt light headed all of a sudden, his vision swam for a second as a small stab of pain shoot through his head. The vertigo like sensation seemed to last for a second before the pain subsided. Risking a glance, he looked down at his shaking hands.
They were completely normal, no ebony black glow outlining his fingertips or anything. Michael blinked a couple times before clenching and unclenching his hands almost hesitantly. He could feel the tingling sensation of energy returning to the surface in small tremors.
"Can I ask you something, Professor?" Michael whispered, keeping his gaze on his hands. "Tell me, what exactly makes someone a 'mutant'?"
"Well you see in some individuals, there is something called an X-Gene." Scott explained, speaking up for the first time since they arrived. "The X-Gene is usually dormant until someone reaches puberty or can become active later on in life."
The blonde raised an eyebrow. "So if what you're saying is correct, this one little gene is the cause of this weird feeling I'm currently experiencing?"
"Yes, that's about right." Scott said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Is that right?" Michael nodded, letting the words soak in. He looked up from his hands to look directly into Charles' dark eyes. "If you know so much about this 'X-Gene', then tell me how to get rid of mine."
Silence filled the music room as three pairs of eyes stared each other down. A small frown appeared on the telepath's lips. Charles had met a lot of different mutants throughout his life, but it wasn't often that he would encounter someone that wanted to get rid of their X-Gene. Most of the mutants that he had the chance to meet would be upset at first, and they had every right to feel this way. This boy wasn't any different. The telepath prepared to reply, but the blonde teen turned his attention back to his violin.
"I thought as much." Michael sighed wearily.
Reaching over for his violin case, the blonde gingerly placed his white instrument back inside its black case. It was then that Scott noticed just how tired the blonde really was.
The brunette teen walked over to the tired blonde carefully and reached out to put a hand on Michael's shoulder. The blonde teen tensed immediately under his hand. With a swift jerk, Michael removed his shoulder out from under Scott's grasp. He moved back until he felt his back hit the side of the white piano. Michael glared icily at the brown haired teen.
"Don't touch me." He hissed, venom dripping from his voice.
With a swift movement, the blonde slammed the lid down on his violin case. Grabbing the small handle, Michael jerked it off the piano and pushed pass Scott towards the door. He reached out for the door handle, but his hand stopped a few inches from the metal handle. Michael winced as his vision swam once more, a quick stab of pain shot through his head. His violin case slipped out of his trembling fingers and landed on the carpet floor with a loud thump. Michael felt himself stagger backwards a few steps.
"La mia testa." The blonde massaged his throbbing temple gingerly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely make out someone moving towards him.
Try to relax, Mr. Soletta. A calm voice in his head instructed.
"W-Who's doing that?" Michael stammered fearfully. The pale teen winced at the voice in his head. He shook his head to regain his bearings. He could feel the pain immediately lessen before it subsiding to a very dull ache at the back of his head.
The telepath smiled apologetically. "Please forgive me, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, I-I'm fine. I just─" His icy blue orbs widened with sudden realization. His body jerked backwards sharply until his back slammed hard against the door behind him. "It was you!"
"Mr. Soletta, I know you're confused but please try to remain cal-"
"No! I will not try to remain calm?! Your voice was in my head!" Michael spat venomously.
He leveled a frigid glare at the man in front of him, and took a shallow breath to continue.
But no words came out. The next thing he knew, an intense wave of pain shot through his skull like a gunshot. Michael let out a pained cry as he clutched tightly at his throbbing head. He sank to his knees and whimpered weakly under his breath. The pain shooting through his skull was getting almost unbearable. It felt as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly in the head with a piece of superheated metal. He could barely make out the low hum of electric wheels over the pounding in his head.
Michael almost jumped when he felt two strong, steady hands placed over his trembling ones.
"Michael? Michael, I need you to try and take a few deep breaths, can you do that for me?" Charles instructed calmly. The blonde sucked in a shaky breath, trying to follow the telepath's instructions. "Just focus on my voice, alright? Just nod to let me know that you understand."
Michael nodded stiffly, trying to focus through the debilitating stabs of pain. His body shuddered weakly as he tried to breathe. Through blurry eyes, he barely made out Charles shut his own eyes. A moment passed, then another until the pain quickly started to subside until it was back to just a dull throbbing.
After taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, the blonde let his head hang forward almost limply. The wheelchair bound telepath allowed Michael to rest his forehead on his left knee, while the blonde finally got his breathing under control.
Scott got down on one knee next to the pale teen, gently placing a hand on Michael's back. He could feel Michael's body tense up.
"Sorry, I forgot you don't like being touched." He said before removing his hand.
"I-it's fine." The blonde grunted, lifting his head tiredly.
The pale teen slowly pushed himself up to stand on wobbly legs, allowing Scott to help him when he felt himself sway. Reaching over to the forgotten violin case, Scott deposited it in the blonde's shaking hands. Michael avoided both of their gazes by keeping his eyes focused on the smooth material of his dress shoe.
"Are you sure that you're alright?" Scott asked.
Michael nodded. "Y-yeah, I'm going to go lay down for a little bit."
The pale teen wordlessly turned towards the door and walked out of the room. Along the way he passed his mother, who watched him with concerned sapphire eyes. She watched him trek down the hall until he disappeared around the nearest corner.
She was so focused on the hallway that her son disappeared down that she didn't notice that she was no longer alone in the hall.
"Rosella?"
The blonde woman jumped in surprise, tearing her eyes from the hallway to meet a pair of calm dark brown eyes. Charles' face was neutral, but she could see a small hint of concern in his eyes. Rosella felt her cheeks heat up in a fierce blush.
"Charles, please don't scare me like that." The blonde haired woman tried to compose herself, gently resting a hand over her heart.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to scare you." He offered her a kind smile.
"Oh, please don't worry about that," Rosella said, returning the smile. "I was wondering if everything was alright, I thought I heard Michael shouting just a moment ago."
The telepath merely shook his head and smiled "Everything is fine. He just got a little worked up is all. I was wondering if I could speak with you in private."
"Y-yes, yes of course." The blonde nodded, smiling nervously. "If you'll follow me to my study, we should be able to talk without anyone interrupting us."
She looked over to her right, waving down the maid that accompanied them earlier. The maid nodded her head, making her way down the hall. She stopped beside Rosella, who whispered something in her ear. The raven-haired maid simply nodded in response.
"Mr. Summers, if you will follow me, I shall show you to the young master's room." The maid spoke softly.
The brunette teen raised an eyebrow. Scott glanced at his mentor, as if silently asking for his permission. Charles merely nodded for him to follow her as moved his wheelchair to follow after the blonde woman. The brunette watched them disappear down the long hallway, before turning his attention to his guide.
"Please lead the way, Miss─?"
"Francisca." She supplied kindly.
The two trekked down the hallways silently, passing a few paintings of the countryside that were hung on the walls. Turning the nearest right corner, Scott and the maid climbed up a small stairway to the second floor. Bright sunlight shined through window, bathing the stairwell in a warm glow of white light. Stopping at the top step, Francisca turned her body to face Scott.
"If you go to down the left hall, the young master's room is the fifth door on the right side." Francisca said, pointing down the correct hall. "The young master usually leaves his door open a crack most of the time."
"Thank you for your help, Francisca." Scott retorted, smiling gratefully.
A faint blush appeared on the raven-haired maid's face, turning her eyes away from the brunette teen. She smiled almost nervously at Scott. "Y-you're welcome, Mr. Summers. I-If you'll excuse m-me, I should get back to work."
Quickly turning on her heels, Francisca all but ran down the gray marble stairs. When she was completely out of sight, Scott stared at the stairs for a moment as the sound of clicking heels faded.
He shrugged his shoulders with an amused smile. Turning back to the matter at hand, the brunette made his way down the left corridor. Looking on the right side of the corridor, Scott mentally counted the dark oak doors as he passed them.
Most of these hallways look the same. Scott noted absently. The second floor looked like an exact copy of the first floor, the only difference being there were far more windows on this floor. Whoever designed this place must have had a thing for gray marble, arch windows and oak doors.
The brunette was so absorbed in his musing that he almost missed the correct door. The door leading to the blonde teen's room was half closed, only enough to block the view of the room behind it. This is probably what Francisca meant by Michael leaving his door opened just a crack.
Lifting his hand, Scott rapped the back of his knuckles on the door lightly but loud enough to be heard. The brunette waited for a response, only to be rewarded with silence.
Scott pushed the door open just enough to slide his head inside the doorway.
"Michael?" He called out.
Taking a close look inside, Scott's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. The blonde's room was quite spacious and empty. It was surprisingly spotless unlike a typical teenager's room. He noted that everything seemed to be organized in a very specific way. One section of the room was nothing but a few musical instruments placed neatly in the far corner. Even though he couldn't see it, the entire room was completely stark white from the walls to the floor. The room almost looked like something out of a hospital.
And here I thought that I was the only neat freak. Scott thought, rolling his eyes.
Taking a step inside, he scanned over the room looking for any trace of the blonde. But couldn't find him anywhere until he looked over at the bed. Sitting on the white sheets was the blonde's violin case.
If this is here, then he's got to be around here somewhere. He mused.
Looking around the room again, he felt a small breeze of air lightly tousle his hair. Turning his head, the brunette stared at a pair of glass doors that lead out onto a gray stone balcony. The right door was cracked open a little to allow the breeze from outside to flow into the room.
Making his way over to the balcony doors, Scott saw a black dress pant clad leg on the right side of the door. As he drew closer, he could see said blonde teen sitting with his back pressed against the wall of the manor. His left leg lay stretched out in front of him, while his right knee was draw up so he could rest his arm on it. He stared blankly out in front of him.
The blonde let out an aggravated sigh without warning. "Can I ever catch a friggin break around here?"
"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay." Scott said, finally finding his voice.
"Yeah, I'm just peachy." Was the sour retort.
"Look, I'm sorry if we've offended you back there." The brunette sighed, stepping out on the balcony. He walked over to the left side of the balcony and leaned against the stone railing. "We only want to help you."
The blonde snorted, turning his head to look at the older teen. "Help me? Please pray tell, how exactly are you helping me? By telling me that I'm a freak? That I'm a mutant?"
"Look, I know what you're goin─"
"Do you now?!" Michael snapped, shooting the brunette a frigid glare. "I was fine just last week! I was normal, I was like everyone else!"
The blonde teen closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He let out another aggravated sigh. It just wasn't fair, dammit. Why him of all people? What did he do to deserve this? He was already considered to be an outcast by his classmates. Just imagine what would happen if his classmates would do if they found out about him being a mutant? A freak?
Just what I need. Michael groaned mentally.
"Uh, Michael?" The blonde grunted in response. "You might want to take a look at this."
The blonde opened his eyes to look at the brunette, who pointed to over to the other side of the balcony.
Raising an eyebrow, Michael followed with his eyes to where Scott was pointing. His icy blue eyes grew wide in surprise. A flowerpot that usually sat on the stone balcony railing was levitating in the air. If he looked closer, he could make out a very faint purple aura outlining the orange ceramic pot.
"Che diavolo?" Michael muttered, looking at the pot in confusion.
As soon as those words were uttered, the orange pot went crashing down to the railing. It connected with the gray stone railing and exploded on impact, sending orange clay fragments and dirt flying. The two teens shielded their faces from being hit by said fragments and dirt.
As the dirt cloud dispersed, the two teens winced in surprise when it cleared. The section where the pot had hit and the small pillar underneath it had been completely destroyed by the impact. The two teens exchanged a look of bewilderment before quickly moving to inspect the damage. There was no chance in hell that a frail flowerpot could cause that much damage to a stone railing.
"Okay, I'm not the only one that saw that, right? Right?" The pale teen asked nervously. He reached out nervously to touch the damaged stone. "Isn't real, it can't be real. I must be imagining this, right!?"
"Look, I know this is hard for you to understan─"
"I mean, look at this!" Michael stammered, trying in vain to keep the panic out of his voice. "Flowerpots shouldn't do that! The only logical explanation would be if I could manipulate gravity itself. But that's just ridiculous!?"
I always hate this part, Scott sighed lightly to himself. He watched the pale teen rake a hand through his hair. No matter how many times we go through this, it never gets any easier.
"Listen. I know you don't want to believe this, but this isn't a hallucination." Scott stated matter-of-factly. He wasn't going to sugar coat this, Michael needed to face reality. "The fact is your X-Gene has become active, there's nothing you can do to change that."
"Thank you for that 'heartfelt' speech, I feel so much better now." Michael retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Taking one last look at damaged railing, the blonde then sighed to himself in resignation. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, but this is a lot to take in."
What am I doing? He thought sadly. I barely know this guy, and I'm acting like a total ass to him.
"Listen, I understand how you feel." Scott said sympathetically. "Everyone with an X-Gene goes through this when it first becomes active. But you're not alone. We're here in order to help you through this."
The blonde teen raised an eyebrow at that. Turning his gaze to look through the glass doors leading into his bedroom, seeing no one else in his empty room.
"Speaking of 'we', where's the Professor?" Michael inquired. "Or that girl I met at St. Agatha's, for that matter?"
"Jean is on her way, she just had to take care of something on the way first." Scott retorted, leaning back against the wall. "The Professor should be discussing something with your parents somewhere."
A frown appeared on the blonde's lips, his brows furrowed in annoyance. Scott raised an eyebrow at sudden change in the pale teen's demeanor. Scott watched the teen carefully when he moved away from the damaged railing to stand in front of him.
"Parents? Don't make me laugh, I only have one parent that's ever been there for me." He growled, the venom back in his voice.
"Hey look, I'm sorry." The brunette teen held his hands up in defeat. "If I brought up something I shouldn't have, I apologize."
The angry frown on Michael's lip turned into a small sad smile. He turned before walking back over to the damaged rail. Placing a hand on the damaged stone, Michael turned his head to look at the taller teen.
"No, I should be the one to apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." He retorted, letting out a sad sigh. "It's just a touchy subject for me. You see... I-I don't know who my father is. It's just been my mother and me for as long as I can remember. To be honest, I don't even know if he's still alive or not."
(-)
After Scott had left with Francisca, Rosella lead Charles to her private office on the opposite side of the mansion. The two adults retraced their steps back to the main foyer and took the farthest hallway on right side of the room. The hall was plainly decorated with various small dark wood tables and small glass vases with different kinds of flowers in them. For the entire trip, the two adults remained silent before reaching their destination.
The blonde woman opened the door for Charles to wheel himself inside before entering the room herself. Rosella moved towards her paper cluttered desk and took her seat on the opposite of the desk. Her sapphire eyes were hard, and her pale face was devoid of any emotion.
"Charles, please let me first apologize for my son." Rosella started calmly. "Michael may not be the most sociable person, but deep down he really is a good boy."
"Please, Rosella it's quite alright." Charles smiled kindly.
"Yes, but as of late he has been acting distant." She sighed tiredly. It was then that the telepath finally noted the signs of fatigue in her pale features. "I mean, he isn't one to express how he feels to most people, but he would always come to me if something was bothering him. But now, I don't know."
"And you believe that whatever is bothering him is the cause of his recent behavior?" Charles inquired, raising an eyebrow. "I think I can see where you're coming from."
She nodded sadly. Leaning back in her chair, Rosella glanced at the picture frame on the left side of her desk. It was one of her and Michael, when he was about six years old.
The photographer who took the picture of them was an old associate of Salvatore, her father. She smiled fondly at the photo; they were sitting in the back garden and Michael had his arms wrapped loosely around her neck. He had a huge grin on his face, Rosella had her eyes closed and was laughing happily when the photo was snapped. It was her favorite photo of them.
"He's my son, I love him very dearly," She smiled lovingly. Her eyes slowly welled up with tears, but she willed them away. "I want only what's best for him, and if you can help him then I'm willing to put my trust in you."
Charles smiled kindly. "You love him more than anything, don't you?"
"I do." She answered softly.
He smiled knowingly at her. This mother cared deeply for her son; there was no doubt about that. Charles mentally prepared himself for the next part of their discussion. This was always the hardest part, but he was confident that Rosella would still love her son no matter what might happen.
"There's actually the reason why I've come here to meet with you, Rosella." Charles started, waiting for her to let him continue. With a nod from the blonde woman, he continued. "You see, in some individuals there exists something called an X-Gene. This X-Gene usually remains dormant, until that person hits puberty or later on in their life."
"And you believe my son has this gene?" Rosella cut in, clearly confused.
Charles nodded solemnly, so far she seem to be taking this very well. "People that have this particular gene are called mutants. This gene gives them superhuman abilities or certain powers."
"Mutant?" She asked nervously. "I don't understand, so Michael is a mutant now?"
"Yes." Charles answered calmly.
Rosella sat back in her chair, letting the newfound information sink in. How could her own son be a mutant? There was nothing wrong with him, physically or mentally. He was the same boy he always was, well, except for sudden change in his personality as of recently.
So he had a certain gene, but that didn't make him any different from the boy she had raised for the past sixteen years. He was the only thing left that she truly cared about, and one little gene wasn't going to take that away from her.
"If you don't mind my asking, why do you want my son to join your school?" She inquired, trying to keep her face neutral.
Charles noticed the change in her tone. She was being very protective of the younger blonde. She had every right to be, he was her only son after all.
"I run a special school that helps young mutants to learn how to control their powers in a safe environment." Charles clarified simply. Rosella raised a brow, a curious interest appeared in her sapphire eyes. "At my school, we strive to create a world where humans and mutants can co-exist with each other without fear of persecution."
Rosella nodded smiling. "That seems like an admirable dream, Charles. If your school is as good as you say, I believe that Michael could benefit from such an environment. But it's really not up to me to make such an important decision for him. Ultimately, it is Michael's decision and I won't force him."
"Yes, that's understandable. It is his choice after all."
The two adults shared a nod of agreement. Silence filled the room as Rosella tried not to fidget in her seat, the action didn't go unnoticed by the telepath's sharp eyes. It looked like she wanted to say something, but was contemplating the right words before saying them out loud.
"S-So Charles, uh─ have you been able to determined what kind of powers Michael has?" Rosella asked, clearly nervous about what kind of answer she would get.
"Unfortunately at the moment, I'm not particularly certain about his abilities." He frowned, looked down at his lap. "But from what I've observed so far, I can safely make the assumption that his powers seem to be emotional based."
The blonde woman looked alarmed for a moment, but calmed herself when he raised his hand for her to wait. She sighed and leaned back into her chair.
"I know that might sound terrifying, but I have an instructor at my school with the same issue. But she has years of experience with her powers, so she could probably help him with learning how to control his powers."
Rosella smiled. She knew then and there that her son would be in good hands, if he did decide to go with them. The only question was would he go if she asked him to? She may be his mother but Michael had always been independent and mature for his age, despite only being sixteen. All she wanted for him was to be happy.
"Please excuse me for asking, but where is your husband?" Charles inquired. He didn't mean to pry, but if was for her son's future then he should at least have both parents agree on this.
Rosella winced at his words, but tried to hide her discomfort with another pearly white smile. Her wince, however, didn't go unnoticed by her guest. Shifting nervously in her chair, Rosella bite her lip for a few moments before sighing to herself in defeat. There was no way she could avoid it any longer.
"About that," She started, pausing briefly to find the right words. "Well the truth is Charles, I don't have a husband. About sixteen years ago, I met a Japanese artist named Ogami Fujieda. He was hired by my father to come and paint a portrait of the Soletta Estate."
She smiled at the fond memory.
"You could say for us it was love at first sight." She chuckled weakly. Brushing a loose strand of hair back, she continued. "As cliché as that sounds, it was true. We fell in love and before we knew it, Michael was eventually born between us."
"Making Michael half-Italian, half-Japanese." Charles muttered under his breath.
Rosella nodded.
"Yes, although most people can't tell that just by looking at him. While he has most of my features, he gets his handsome looks from his father." She explained, showing Charles the photo on her desk. "Aside from speaking fluent English and Italian, he knows quite a bit of Japanese as you've already seen. Michael has always been fascinated by Japanese culture."
"It's impresses that he's managed to learn all that by himself." The telepath mused.
"Yes, he's a remarkable boy. After Michael was born, Ogami and I had already made plans to be married shortly after his birth." She paused, remembering the scene vividly. "We went to my father and ask for his blessing... but he disapproved."
Her body went rigid. Charles could see her try to suppress the feelings of rage that were building up. She practically spat the word disapproved.
"He called it scandalous, a disgraceful to the Soletta name. He wanted Ogami to leave Italy and never come back." She clutched the picture frame in hand tightly. "If he didn't agree to leave, my father threatened to have him arrested. Ogami had no choice, but to agree with my father's demands and leave Italy."
"And Michael doesn't know anything about this?" Charles stated more than asked.
"No he doesn't. When he was three years old, however, he had overheard the end of an argument between my father and I." She sighed tiredly. The argument was still vivid in her mind's eye. "We were very fortunate that Michael didn't hear much of the discussion. At the time, he was too young to remember any of it."
The two adults sat in silence, simply looking at each other's eyes. The sound of birds singing happily outside the window could be heard faintly. The blonde woman leaned back into her chair, letting her head rest against the back of the chair.
She was so tired of keeping this hidden for so long, but there wasn't much she could do about it. If she told Michael now after so long, what would he think of her? Would he be angry with her for keeping this to herself all these years?
He already had rocky relationship with his grandfather, and this would only make things worse than it already was. Now that Charles had brought to her attention that her son's powers were based on his emotional state, her fear of telling him were now doubled.
"Promise me something, Charles." She said sternly. Her tone left no room for argument.
The telepath merely nodded his promise, waiting for her to continue.
"Under no circumstances should this conversation ever be repeated around Michael." Rosella stated sternly, her sapphire eyes were cold and serious. "I will be the one tell him about Ogami. I am the only one that should shoulder this burden. I will not let anyone else suffer for my own mistakes."
"I understand Rosella. I will try and respect your wishes." He promised, giving her a reassuring smile. She returned it with a brilliant smile of her own. A sharp knocking at the door brought the two adults' attention away from their conversation.
"Come in!" Rosella called just loud enough to be heard.
After a moment of silence, the door handle twisted and the door pushed open as Michael and Scott made their way inside the now quiet office. While Scott remained by the door, Michael wordlessly made his way over to the middle of the room and stopped halfway.
The younger blonde shifted nervously on his feet, his icy blue eyes held a nervous glint in them. Both adults could tell right away that something was bothering him, and he was very hesitant. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and bit his lip lightly.
"M-Mamma, ho qualcosa da dirti." Michael said nervously. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously with his right hand.
"Michael, I already know dear." Rosella cut in, smiling at him. "Professor Xavier was kind enough explained it to me, and you are still the same little boy that I've raised these past sixteen years. I'll still love you, no matter what happens."
The blonde's icy blue eyes widened in surprise.
"Have you made your final decision?" She asked, her own sapphire eyes focusing on his icy blue orbs.
Michael was taken aback, but nodded timidly.
"I-I have mamma. I want to learn how to control these powers, s-so I don't hurt anyone." He said, shifting nervously. He hated how all eyes in the room were on him at that moment. Turning his gaze to the telepath in front of him, the blonde offered a nervous smile.
"A wise decision, Michael." Charles said smiling. "I'm happy to hear that you made the right choice."
The pale teen gave him a weak smile before looking to his mother. She smiled back happily at him. Michael felt a hand lightly pat his shoulder, turning his head he saw Scott offer him a smile of his own.
"Hey, if you need any help packing, I'll give you a hand." The brunette offered kindly.
"Sure, that'd be great." Michael retorted quietly.
Turning his head back to face his mother, he saw a faint glimmer in her eyes. He knew that little glimmer in her eyes all to well; it was always there when she was hiding something. Something told him that she was discussing something very important with Professor Xavier. Whatever it was, it must have been so important that he couldn't know about it. But no matter. For now he would continue playing the clueless son until he finally got the answers he was looking for.
"I'll let you boys go ahead and do that. We just have some last minute details to discuss." Rosella said smiling.
"Alright, mamma. Come on Scott, let's get started." He just gave her a fake smile and nodded at Scott.
As the two teens turned to head back the pale teen's room, he shot his mother an unseen dirty look just as he turned to head for the door.
You're hiding something from me, and I will find out what mother dear. You can count on that. He thought darkly.
There you have it boys and girls! I hope you guys enjoyed chapter 2 of my little story! It was really tough to plot out and make sure it was clear enough to read! As a writer, I'm always looking for ways to help me improve. Tell me what you guys thought of this chapter! Any improvements I could make, anything! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Please don't forget to R&R, and I will see you all in the next chapter of the Devil's Shadow!
-Cyprin-san
(Revisions: 5/7/16)
Translation:
Italian:
Mamma? Va bene se parlo con i nostri ospiti, da solo?
Mom? Is it okay if I talk with our guests, alone?
La mia testa
My head
Che diavolo?
What the hell?
Mamma, ho qualcosa da dirti.
Mom, I have something to tell you.